And No One Dared
by CurlyTuft
Summary: Helena finally returns home one afternoon. Set in a vague, post-4.10 world.
1. And No One Dared

A bit late to tumblr's Pornathon, but I made it and brought cookies. This is most likely a one-shot, but may decide to revisit in the future.

Inspired by a couple very quiet days at home with my mate.

* * *

For whatever reason, you brave the snow and head back to the bed and breakfast to get some lunch. It's not part of the normal routine, but you could do with some peace and quiet from the mayhem that Pete and Claudia can get into at a moment's notice. Since Leena's passing, no one is there to greet you or push a mug of cocoa in your hands when you come in from the cold. Each of you has stepped up to keep the place tidy in her absence. You unlock the front door and kick the snow from your boots rather than track water throughout the house. The floors aren't your responsibility (more like Claudia's with a tricked-out Roomba), but you are still considerate in keeping things running smoothly and without making more work for others than necessary. You hang up your coat, remove your hat and gloves and finally remove your boots before catching the aroma of tea. No one has been home since the morning, so you find it curious that there would be such a scent. Going from room to room, you look to see if anyone is there. In the last place you look, there she is.

Of course she'd pick the lock then secure herself back in the house.

Helena is sitting on the living room sofa; mug of tea in one hand, a book in the other. A small leather duffle bag is at her feet. Her back is to you, but she knows you're looking in her direction from the doorframe. Moments pass as she appears to finish a section of her book, place the bookmark in the middle and set it down on the table along with her tea. She gets up, turns and sees you standing there. It takes a moment to gather yourself with the sight of her in the same space as you. You're immediately startled by the dirty, lightweight clothes she has on that aren't suited for the cold South Dakota winter. Regardless of her state, you pull her towards you for a hug and just hold her, placing your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. You're closer to the same height when you're barefoot and she wears her boots. Her arms are around your neck and tightly holding you despite her exhausted state. She isn't known for her hugs or displays of affection; the contact feels foreign to you, but right. Beneath the dirt and sweat on her body, her scent lingers and you recognize the faintest odor of her shampoo and lotion that you have not smelled in over a year. She appears to be cold, shivering when one of your hands presses to her lower back under her thin jacket. Your memories immediately go to Moscow where she held a piece of the _Titanic_ and nearly froze.

You say nothing. You let her go, but reach down for the duffle bag by the sofa and take her other hand to lead her upstairs to your room. You open the door and usher her inside, pushing her towards the bathroom where you turn on the hot water for the shower. Helena takes off her cotton jacket and tosses it onto the tiled floor. You leave so she can undress and shower in private while you head back downstairs to make some lunch. She washes, you heat up some soup, make grilled cheese and slice up an apple to share. It's cold out and the warm food will do wonders for you both. Helena's still in the shower when you return upstairs with a tray full of food and a stolen electric kettle to make some post-lunch tea. No one else in the house will miss it if she's holding it upstairs for an evening. Setting down the tray, you pull her luggage onto the bed and open it; you're not trying to be nosy, only helpful. There's not much inside, just a small toiletry case, socks, underwear and tank tops with everything seemingly dirty and in need of a wash. You walk over to the laundry basket with her bag and directly empty its contents inside. From your drawers, you pull out some flannel pyjamas and a tank top for her to wear. Before she gets out of the shower, you open the bathroom door and place the clean clothes by the sink. As you set down the clothes, you notice her jewelry, especially her necklace with Christina's photo. You smile as you turn it over to see the happy little girl in black and white. Also near the necklace are several earrings, more than her typical pearl ones. Laid out in pairs are her pearl earrings and a set of small silver hoops. There's a single silver earring set apart from the others, one you don't recognize, that looks like one for a cartilage piercing. You'll have to ask her about that later. She turns off the water and you pull your towel from the rack, holding it out for her to grasp when the curtain is opened. You avoid looking at her and once the towel is out of your hands, you leave her to get dressed on her own.

Moments later Helena is standing in the doorway of the bathroom watching you set up the lunch you've prepared. She looks adorable in your oversized pyjamas with the leg cuffs rolled up and your towel draped over her shoulders to keep the dampness in her hair from seeping into her clothes. You turn down the duvet on the left side of the bed for her to get in and stay warm. She settles in, sitting up against fluffy pillows and wiggling her toes beneath the blankets. You place a tray of food on her lap which she eagerly dives into. You sit in the armchair adjacent to her side of the bed and delve into your lunch as well. You eat in a comfortable silence, no doubt listening to each other chew and slurp your food. She's hungry and tired, still a bit chilled from earlier, but nothing that some sleep can't cure. Once she finishes eating, you see the fatigue settle in and remove the tray from her lap. She tosses aside the towel from her neck and slinks down onto the pillows to sleep. Apparently she's too tired for tea - certainly a first. You pull the duvet up over her shoulders and she looks at you with a smile after you kiss her forehead, leaving her to sleep while you return to the Warehouse for the rest of the day. She probably wants you to stay, but understands you have obligations for the rest of the workday. Prior to heading out, you gather her worn clothes from the bathroom and add them to the laundry basket. You put on a wash and figure you'll put the clothes in the dryer when you return in the evening.

When everyone else finds out that Helena has returned, they all want to rush home to see her, but you remind them she's exhausted and needs uninterrupted sleep. While all of you eat dinner together later that evening, you put aside something for her on a tray, unsure if she'll even be awake to indulge in it. You pull Artie aside and ask if you can take part of tomorrow off, knowing that you offered to stay during the upcoming break so everyone else can travel and be with family. He fully understands and happily agrees with your request. Pete offers to carry the tray upstairs, but he's honestly looking for an excuse to see her too. You carry the laundry basket now filled with her clean clothes.

The room is dark when you open the door and the light from the hallway guides Pete towards your bed with the tray. She's curled onto her side, facing the chair and window, lightly snoring. You smile at the sight of her comfortably resting. Pete also smiles when he sees her peacefully sleeping, then looks back up at you, grinning as though you're the luckiest woman in the world.

You are because you're in love.

He gives you a quick hug before heading out himself for an evening of popcorn and movies downstairs with Steve and Claudia. It's only seven o'clock, but you just want to be besides her and reading a book. You hunt around in the dark room looking for your pyjamas, remembering there is a clean pair in the laundry basket. You pull them out and retreat to the bathroom to clean up before getting into bed. Despite all the ruckus of the running water, flushed toilet and a stubbed toe, she's still fast asleep with the covers tucked around her.

You crawl into bed beside her worried that she will wake up; however, she doesn't move. She's not going to move because she is exhausted and you realize that turning on the bedside lamp and the rustling of the pages of your book will not stir her from her sleep. You read for a few hours, pausing every half hour to see her breathing next to you, incredulous that she is finally here. You want to wake up next to her in the morning, see her hair tousled, watch her eyes try to adjust to the sunlight, take those first steps out of bed. When you finally succumb to sleep yourself, you push your pillow next to hers and scoot closer to her body, draping an arm across her middle. The two of you comfortably sleep curled up with one another for the first time.

In the morning, you've reversed positions: you're on your side with her hand resting on your stomach, pulling you close and her body pressed up against you. It's heaven.

You sleep late. Very late. Both of you, fading in and out of sleep the entire morning. You occasionally wake up, use the bathroom and hear a door open and shut down the hall. No one is going to bother either of you knowing that you are both finally together after so much separation. You take some time getting out of bed and dressed for the day; it's well after one o'clock. Once you're up, Helena eventually rises, surprised she slept for nearly 24 hours. After another hot shower, she's comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel looking for something to wear from the now clean pile of clothes in the basket. Everything there is meant for much warmer weather, so you take a long-sleeved shirt, sweater and thick socks from a drawer for her - her own jeans suffice for now. She smiles as you hand her the clothes and retreats back into the bathroom to change. When she emerges, she's pulling the shoulder of the sweater to her nose, inhaling your scent woven into the fabric followed by a contented sigh.

Dressed in your wool jacket and plaid scarf, she looks considerably smaller than you remember despite being bundled up in your wintry gear. Gloved hands are shoved into pockets, no doubt fiddling with an object inside and twirling it between fingers. Her shoulders are slightly slumped causing her feet casually move one in front of the other with snow gathering between the heel and sole of her boots. It appears as though Helena hasn't encountered snow for some time and tries to regain her footing with each step, so you slow down when you realize she's not at your side. Hanging back a moment, you await those two extra steps she needs and she catches up to you. You link your arm through hers to offer some stability along the icy path. Tilting her head, Helena looks down at your entwined arms and then back up at you with a delighted smile. She moves her arms deeper into her pockets, which makes your adjacent limbs collide even more, but she knows what she's doing there. The bump of your arms clashing knocks your cap marginally off-kilter. For a moment, you stop walking to fix your hat and she jerks backwards thanks to your interlocked arms. Your hand goes up to adjust it as your ears are now exposed to the cold, but as soon as you move your hand, her fingerless-gloved one reaches over to pull down the side that pushed up. Her pale hand lingers at the edge of the cap and tucks an errant curl behind your ear. Your heart beats two steps faster at the touch of her hand against your ear.

Even though she is the one who needs the support walking, she puts her hand back in her pocket and offers her arm; you modestly slip yours through hers. You keep walking along the snowy sidewalk until you reach your destination where you unhook your arms to hold the door open for her and another passersby who suddenly seems interested in a warm beverage. The coffee shop is buzzing with customers looking to escape the cold outside. She stands in front of the chalkboard looking at the endless options as well as loosening the scarf thanks to the warmth indoors. Looking around the room, there is one couch available in a corner by a window and she motions to you that she is going to claim it. Helena doesn't tell you what she wants, but you know what to get when you are at the register. Waiting for the drinks, you keep an eye on her sitting on the couch and rifling through her pockets for her small notebook. She opens it and jots down something, frantically underlining whatever it is she has just written and then puts away the book. You silently laugh at the passion in the underlining of whatever it is and keep on observing her. She doesn't remove her coat or gloves, just keeps them on and tucked around her to stay warm. None the wiser to you watching her, she calmly looks out the window at the snowflakes falling and watching people try to park their cars among the snowdrifts. Lost in your observation, you miss the barista calling your name the first and then second time. From the couch, she raises her head at the call of your name, then catches you looking at her. Helena gestures towards the counter and the woman holding up two steaming drinks. You turn around, blushing, and thank the barista before walking towards the couch.

Her right arm outstretches as you approach with her fingers rapidly moving until the warm drink is in its place. You sit beside her on the two-person couch, cradling your drinks and releasing a sigh of relief when you're settled next to her. She crosses her legs at the knee and slips her free hand into your coat pocket. You smile at her hand resting against the satiny lining and trying to grope around to see if there's anything interesting inside. There's nothing in there, so she quickly gives up her movements but does not remove her hand. Helena scoots closer to you then takes a sip of her tea which she realizes is far too hot to drink and singes the tip of her tongue. Immediately, you get up and head towards the register for a bottle of water. Upon your return, you hold it out in front of her and settle yourself back on the couch. You take the cup from her hand, remove its lid, place the cup and the lid on the table in front of you to cool as to avoid a repeat of recent actions. You then do the same with your own coffee. From your right pocket, the one she didn't get her hand into, you pull out a packet of shortbread fingers and place it besides her tea. Her brown eyes widen and the corners of her mouth turn upwards in a smile that you remember what she likes.

Several minutes pass without the two of you touching your drinks, but you silently listen to the music and watch people walk by lost in the snowflakes outside. Inside, customers seem engaged with their laptops, tablets or magazines. You both stand out as neither of you is looking at a screen or book, but rather just at each other. The hand in your pocket taps against your hip as it is released from its confines; the tap is a promise that it will return soon. Helena reaches over to pick her the now safe-for-consumption tea and takes a perfect-temperature sip. You figure it's probably safe to do the same with your coffee and take a long-awaited gulp, keeping the cup in your hands to stay warm. The packet of cookies is opened and she offers you one of the two shortbread fingers which you politely decline. She eats one piece of shortbread then places the packet back on the table besides her tea. With both hands now free, she returns one to the warmth of your pocket. She does this a couple of times until you realize that after each sip of tea, she's going to put the cup back on the table and return her hand to your pocket.

She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and you notice the 19th-century pearl earrings and that modern silver hoop you saw earlier. Your hand reaches out to flick the silver earring; Helena chuckles yet explains nothing as she takes a swig of her tea with a raised eyebrow. Neither of you says a word. You just enjoy each other's company as you sip your drinks and try to listen to the light jazz playing in the background, but the music is essentially overpowered by the boisterous customers. There is always the option to go somewhere with a quieter atmosphere; however, this place sells her favorite shortbread and has the comfy couch. You both like it here, you used to come here before...

Once your drinks are done, you take her cup and yours to the garbage bin. She munches on the last of her shortbread and sheepishly holds out the empty wrapper. You give her a look, she smiles, you walk back to the bin with the wrapper. Before heading outdoors, you adjust your cap and she tightens her scarf for the walk back to the car. You hold the door for her and she waits for you to join her side, holding the crook of her arm outward for you to grasp. In the early days of winter, it gets dark early and think it's best to head home.

When you come home, everyone has left. The inn is quiet. The tree is lit, the rooms are warm and a few presents have been added beneath the tree, including some wrapped in Happy Birthday paper. You figure the gifts in that pinkish/purplish paper are for her, sitting idle in their rooms since September. You remove your jackets and help her with her boots as you settle into an evening together downstairs in front of the fire.

Despite her continuing exhaustion, there's a glimmer of playfulness and excitement in her motions. You sit together on the couch with a blanket covering your legs, watching the fire crackle, warming your wriggling socked feet in front of it. Her arm is around your waist, your hand is wedged between her jean-clad thighs. You want to ask a million questions, but it's not the time for that. You both doze in and out of sleep clinging to each other, relishing the quiet, the smell of the fire and the comfort of each other's presence. Before you hesitate any longer, you get up from the couch and hold out your hand to lead her upstairs for bed, much like you did the day before. The fire has died out and it's getting late. You gingerly take each step, making sure she is right behind you. Once in your room you neglect to turn on the overhead light, and shut and lock the door. She walks over to the laundry basket with some of her folded clothes, pulls out a couple items and tosses them on her side. You stroll into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash up before getting in bed. The small bedside lamp on your side is switched on and gently lights the area.

Honestly, you're nervous. It feels right when you don't hesitate and forego the neatly folded pyjamas on your side of the bed. It doesn't matter that you haven't slept with anyone in over four years: she's the woman you love, she's clever, she's beautiful, she loves you back. Rather than let your brain get the best of you, you strip off all your clothes in front of her, heave them onto the floor and crawl into bed in plain sight of the clothed woman before you. It would be fun to have her undress you, however, that can wait for another occasion. She understands your proposition and does the same, quickly covering herself with a blanket. It's been even longer for her and she is hungry for absolutely any taste of your body. You're too far away from each other, so you move closer and pull her in with an arm around her naked waist. A little gasp escapes her lips at the contact of your hand on the dip of her back, fingers skimming over the skin found there. Your foreheads are pressed together, her arm is snaked around your waist and your hot breath mingles thanks to your lips nearly touching. Closing the gap between your mouths, you quietly seek her out, pressing your lips to hers and enjoying the sensations of you being joined together. Her dry lips part as you casually seek out her tongue and you do your best not to overwhelm her with the need to taste as much as possible. You have been apart for so long and to have her undressed, in your arms, kissing you is long overdue. Naked, entwined with your love in your bed for a first kiss isn't too bad either.

Your lips are locked together for several minutes until one of you finally has to catch your breath with a huge gasp of air. Suddenly you recall the last person she kissed is Pete and once rejoined, you smile against her lips at the thought of the day you met in London. Once you grasp embracing her, your hands begin to tentatively wander, moving from her lower back to beneath the underside of her thigh. You tug her leg in an attempt to drape it on yours and she complies by opening her legs to rest it on you. The smell of her arousal emanating from her thighs clings you to her even more, knowing she is turned on by your exploits. Your mouths never lose contact as she cups your breasts, learning the weight and feel of them in her hands, observing what makes you moan. You sigh into her mouth as fingers graze your nipples and she finally releases your lips from hers to hear all of the little sounds you make. Her freed lips mean that they can move south towards your breasts where she can suck at the stiff peaks she's encouraged and nibble at the soft skin around them. Her once dry lips are now wet and exploring everywhere from your brow to your navel. She's worshipping your body, loving every inch of your taut frame and pressing every curve of herself against you.

Her hands and mouth can't get enough of your breasts and you want your own chance to taste her body. Thankful for her thigh that rests on you, you grasp it again and push her onto her back. Your thigh is now between her legs, pressing into her. It's Helena's turn to wail with delight at your smooth leg next to her skin and entangle her arms around your waist; you moan at your clit delightfully pressing against her thigh for the first time. Before she is completely distracted again, you lean down to kiss her and find yourself once more lost in her lips. Your hands move to her breasts, feeling her nipples harden at the contact with you. Her mind spins once lips move there and she rakes her nails across your back.

You urge her upwards, on top of you and encourage her to straddle your hips. You want to taste her, but want to know what it feels like to be inside her first. Reaching between her legs, you press both hands against her pelvic bone to help gain her balance as she is exposed above you. She's a lovely sight when you dip one finger between her damp folds to reach the protruding pink bud at the top. Once you touch her, even with that one tender fingertip gliding upwards, you have her under your spell forever. She's arching into your hand when your palm changes direction and strokes her clit as your fingers travel down towards her opening. Two fingers crawl to her entrance and tease inside, but it seems as though "crawling" and "teasing" are not in her current vernacular and she just needs to ride your fingers. You just need to feel her heat surround you; your fingers effortlessly slide deeper into her and you remain still for a minute. You can't believe you're inside her, feeling her pulse around your fingers, burning hot with arousal, tight and holding you in place. She realizes what you're doing and leans down to kiss you. Her hips wriggle to relieve the tenseness between her legs. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up to your body and start moving your fingers inside of her. You slowly draw your fingers out and just as slowly push them back in, feeling how her muscles pull you in deeper and grip you tighter. After a few repeats of this motion, she starts to move on your fingers, slowly rising up and down on them, which encourages you to quicken your ministrations. The palm of your hand is sopping with her juices; she must have shaved when she awoke and your hand slides freely against her skin polished with her wetness, still hitting her clit with each thrust. You haven't kissed in at least a couple minutes and miss the contact of her lips against yours. You pull her down with your unoccupied hand so you can kiss her, wildly gasping into your mouth with each of your thrusts against her G-spot thanks to the new angle. You pick up the pace, sensing she's close by the way she rides you faster and is biting on your shoulder. Most likely, you will have some teeth marks there tomorrow morning. Abruptly she shuts her eyes, stills and lets out a high-pitched moan as her body shakes, her walls contract against your fingers and you have never felt or seen anything so remarkable in your entire life as Helena coming because of you.

When your fingers retire from her body, you take them to your lips to taste her. You really want to taste her because the aroma isn't enough anymore and your hand is just coated with _her_. A swift hand grasps your wrist with the sopping digits. She detours your fingers to her mouth to lick off her own juices with a languishing dart of the tongue, challenging you to taste her at the origin rather than your hand. You smile, thinking that is definitely not a problem when you roll her onto her back. There is, of course, the possibility of tasting her on her own lips, but you would prefer to dine on her elsewhere. Your objective is to completely tire out this woman beneath you.

Helena lays on her back, panting, sweating and trying to catch her breath. Positioned above her, you kiss your way around her body, rising up with her when she breathes in, sinking down with her with each breath out. Once you have finally reached your destination, she is still recovering, yet now moaning along with the kisses and licks you have bestowed upon her body. She's exquisite: her thighs spread, sex swollen and wet, glistening and slippery thanks to the moisture you've encouraged. You gently spread her lips apart and watch her pulse at your touch. So enticing that you need to taste her. A patch of wetness has gathered in one particular spot; your tongue thrusts out to lick and to assault your senses. You taste her and know anything you eat from now on will have to compare to her. She moans at your tongue moving up and down, from her entrance to her pink pearl, until you finally settle on the side of her clit and lapping with your tongue. Your hands move underneath her thighs, her fingers seek out your own as she holds on while you assault her with your mouth. You heartily taste the core of the woman below you, needily sucking and licking at her clit. With her body splayed out before you, it takes only a few strokes of your tongue to push her over the edge. As she comes again, you continue to flick your tongue against her and introduce your fingers back inside just to hear the additional sounds she can make. Now she's spent, now she's coming down from the high you've given her accompanied by sounds of utter delight.

The entire time you focus so much on her pleasure that you forget about yourself. There's a small wet patch on the sheets where you had been lying face down. You glance at it for a moment, which catches her eye at your distraction. A yearning appears in her eyes once she realizes that she hasn't touched you yet. You're the prey; she pounces. She firmly pushes you down on the bed and dives right into your pussy before you can protest. Beginning with her tongue prodding at your entrance, Helena's mouth takes in the source of your arousal from your entrance. Clearly, she loves you and she absolutely adores doing this. Suddenly, your clit is between her teeth and tugging, stroking and adoring every inch of your being. No one has ever eaten you out so thoroughly before. Sure you've had quite a few self-induced orgasms (an absolute necessity since the first day you met), yet nothing compares to the sensation of her tongue lapping and licking you up, pushing you completely over the edge until you are forced to crush her face against you as you climax. You silently thank the universe's deities that there is no one else in the house to hear you scream because of her extraordinary tongue. She continues to lick and you pull her head away from your oversensitive clit. She kisses you. You smell and taste your scent upon her face, branding her with your spendings.

You haven't said a single word to each other in the day she's been back, but you don't always need to when she knows you better than anyone else.


	2. That Split the Night

Thank you everyone for the kind reviews and comments. They are much appreciated.

* * *

When you wake up with a startle in the middle of the night, you smell her on your lips, remembering where your tongue had been hours before. You remember her mouth against yours. Your hands wandering and pleasuring her, then her mouth just about everywhere on you, yours everywhere on her. Somewhere in the lower part of your body there is a sudden quiver at the remembrance of it all and it makes you smile.

Laying in bed, flat on your back, her head in the crook of your arm, you're comfortable, happy and peaceful. One look at the tangle of dark hair makes your heart leap because you're holding her and she has her arm around you middle, firmly grasping you. And she's holding you as though she never wants to let go, possessively hanging onto your waist. You can easily understand why she clings to you like this, even subconsciously in her sleep. After so many personal, unforeseen and unavoidable circumstances she doesn't - you both don't - want to risk losing each other. She is staying, pulling into you and comfortably nesting.

Somehow, she can sense you're awake as you feel her eyelashes flick against your body. Her hair moves across you and tickles your arm; you feel her smiling against your skin. She struggles to prop up her body, finally figuring out that she is leaning in for a kiss. You assist by pulling her on top of you and crushing your lips towards her. You endearingly fumble a bit in the dark, but it's sweet and romantic waking in the middle of the night with her there. Yes, you might have furiously been going at it just a few hours earlier; however, she can't help but want to show you how much she loves you over and over again.

Her hand reaches down to where she had so recently pleasured you. The other hand remains on your hip, holding you in place and helping her maintain balance. You keep kissing her and her hands come down to your face to firmly capture you. Releasing your lips, you let out an inquisitive moan at the touch of her palm descending even lower. Only a couple hours ago she had explored you there; nimble fingers play with your sensitive and aroused bundle of nerves before even trying to recess deeper into you. You stay wet thanks to her downward shifting hand that replenishes your clit with the moisture needed to maintain that heavenly friction. When her digits reach their destination and crawl inside, she groans at the heat and the immense wetness as she splits you. Your lips part making the faintest of sounds.

Helena adores making love in the middle of the night. Sometimes, it's her hands on your breasts, tugging your nipples and trailing a finger along the side of your body. Other times, it's her mouth on you, gently sucking and licking your clit until you're awake. You have no idea how she manages to extricate herself from your arms and shift downwards without waking you, but she always manages to surprise you that way.

She leans her lips to your ear and whispers, "You've an unquenchable lubricity." For a couple moments, you have no idea what she is saying until you realize she is complimenting you. Unlike your earlier endeavors, she decides to keep this slow and gentle. You glue your lips back to hers as she moves her fingers inside of you. Her gentle thrusts encourage you to keep a slow pace as you sob with pleasure writhing beneath her. It's dark and you can't completely see her, but based on the sounds she's making along with you, she is definitely enjoying this as well. You draw your arm around her neck, holding yourself beneath her by cupping and caressing Helena's breast. The nub at your apex is saturated with liquid that she draws there with each shifting movement of her hand.

Tonight though, her mouth is occupied around your neck and lips as she uses her hands to excite every inch of you. Suddenly, Helena pulls out of you and slides her sleek thigh to your center. You love the feel of her leg against you and she very well knows that detail. You wonder if you should invest in a thigh strap-on for occasions such as these. Since she has been exposed to the night air, her thigh is cool and instantly becomes wet with your warm arousal when you make contact. It takes a moment for you to realize that the same is true of her, coating your leg as she rides against you. She always seems to get so turned on that she wants to ride it out with you; this time, nudging her clit against your hipbone as you do the same with her. She thrusts her hips forward a handful of times, making her dark hair completely fall in front of her face and tickle your skin. A tilt of the neck flips her hair away from you onto one side of her neck.

Just as she flicks her hair, Helena shudders against your leg and moans into your ear. You kiss her bare shoulder as she continues to thrust against your leg, she knows how to build you up with a variety of caresses, re-introducing her fingers deeper into your tightly pulsating folds just before you come. She pulls at your neck and bites down on the tender side, pushing you over that blissful edge. You scream her name at the bite and stop moving once you are fully spent. For only a moment, you forget there are others living at the bed and breakfast, but hopefully they are sleeping and cannot hear the response she elicits from you. She releases her mouth from your neck and starts kissing the spot she had nibbled upon to soothe you. You both catch your breath for a few minutes and finally Helena rolls off you and her fingers slide out of their warm, constricted home as she moves closer besides you. Before she settles her head down you hear her lips smack, knowing full well she has just cleaned her fingers of your taste.

She angles her head in your direction, unable to actually see you there in the darkness. "I'm just going to keep tiring you out, you know."

You quiet her with a kiss, smiling against her mouth. "I have no problem with that." Her lips now faintly smell like you, suggesting a path down your body that they had earlier taken as well as her recent actions. You shift to place yourself in the crook of her arm now, content that after only a month and a half she knows every curve so well and has memorized each corner, muscle and niche of your body. Helena's arm tightens around you and you contentedly rest against her, hearing the beating of her heart against your ear. "Go to sleep." she softly advises as she strokes your hair. It's a matter of minutes before the pair of you are asleep once more.

* * *

Coffee. The permeating smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. The scent is so powerful that it wakes you from your sleep, your eyes abruptly and widely open taking in the source of the deliciousness. On the nightstand is a large mug of hot coffee along with a plate containing a croissant and brioche. Mingled in with the scent of the coffee and pastries is something else equally delicious. Helena is wearing your robe with nothing underneath it, you can tell from the exposed knee and sight of freckled skin bare at her shoulder. Your clothes are essentially her clothes; she never bothers to go shopping for her own things, merely "borrowing" or "taking" or "stealing" something of yours. Perched on the edge of the bed and looking at you with an affectionate smile, she's holding her own mug of tea, most likely made at home rather than purchased from the bakery. You take the lapels of the robe in your hands and pull her towards you for a morning kiss. She smells like outside, as though she has been wandering around in the fresh winter morning air.

"As much as I'd love to take credit for having made these viennoiseries and the coffee, I did go to the bakery."

"I wouldn't care if you did take credit for it." You say and point towards the mug. "I like how you poured the coffee into a mug."

"Keeping it classy." You stop to wonder where on earth she picks up some of these expressions, probably from Pete or Claudia. She takes a sip of her tea and looks at you when she picks up the plate of pastries and offers you one. You prop yourself up against the headboard, pulling the blankets up to keep warm. You choose the croissant, which you break into pieces to dip into your coffee.

You offer Helena a piece which she gladly accepts, then pull your blankets down a bit so she can sit leaning against you. You pat the space between your legs and get her to sit down in front rather than against the cold headboard. She shifts towards you with the piece of pastry in her hand, moving into the open space you've set aside for her. She places the piece of croissant into her mouth as she stands to untie the robe and quickly settles down to press her naked back against you. It's chilly, so you pull the blankets over your legs to stay warm.

"When are you going to learn how to make my fancy coffees?" you quietly ask into her ear.

"When are you going to learn how to make me a proper cup of tea?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

You're occasionally thrown off by how casual and normal being with her is, how you easily settle into a routine together. It's not that you're bothered by it at all, it's just surprising you can both automatically be comfortable with how you need to be with one another. You know each other, you love each other. In your eyes, it's so simple.

"What time do we need to leave?" she asks.

"Around 8:30 if I drive, 9:00 if you drive." You nudge her arm, careful to not have her spill any of her tea. She can be a speed demon when driving on the unmonitored back roads of South Dakota. Neither of you has started packing.

* * *

_Christmas Eve_

_The entire living room radiates the scent of the beautifully lit balsam fir tree in the corner. You remember the weekend where all of you decorated the tree, going through the ornaments, deciding which ones to put on this year. Vacuuming up the small needles every few days gets tedious, but nothing compares to the smell of a real tree in the house. _

_You put her gifts under the tree as soon as it went up three weeks ago, well before she returned. You hoped she would be back in time for Christmas: it's the reason you offered to stay while everyone else went away. Seven little boxes sit under the tree for her, a few of them belated birthday presents. You hope she likes everything._

_After a small dinner Helena goes into the living room and occupies herself with getting a fire started and you clear and clean the dishes. Once done in the kitchen, you join her in the living room to draw the curtains and plug in the lights. You place yourself on the sofa, watching her get the fire going. She's a pro at this sort of thing, probably doing this since she was ten. You glance at the tree, looking at the colorful ornaments and wrapped presents. The smell of the burning wood diffuses throughout the room, also gradually warming the space._

_"I don't have much for you..." She says as she settles next to you and pulls a blanket up to cover you both. It's chilly; you've had the downstairs heat off most of the day since you spent a good part of the morning and afternoon upstairs in bed. You briefly wonder if you will ever get tired of spending time with her and being in each other's company, realizing that it would be impossible to tire of being with this woman who has taken over one hundred years to be with you at this very moment. She sees the piles of presents for her there beneath the tree and pauses. _

_"You don't have to give me anything."_

_"...and it's been rather well-traveled, I'm afraid."_

_You smile at her. "As far as I'm concerned, you're my present and you're rather well-traveled. My gift, by default, must be you here with me." You lean forward to kiss the tip of her nose._

_There is a moment of hesitation on her part, waiting for you to settle back against the couch after the brief kiss. She reaches for her pocket and pulls out something small and shiny. "I've been carrying this around with me this past year since my 're-release,' if you will. It's something I want you to have." She picks up the item in her left hand and holds it between her thumb and forefinger. _

_It's a ring. A simple gold band ring. A little old, a little scuffed in spots. "It belonged to my mother. My parents didn't have much, but I know it meant a lot to her. It ended up with some of my other belongings in the Vault, which certainly surprised me. I imagine Charles and his estate had something to do with it."_

_The sight of the ring makes you speechless and a little bit panicked. Helena returned two days ago; before that you hadn't seen her in nearly a year not to mention you hardly had any contact during that time. Looking back at her entire departure, you were so angry at her for being away, annoyed that she went off without a word. Once you saw each other in the living room that day, you found it absolutely impossible to be angry with her, not when she looks at you so lovingly and honestly. You had never discussed your romantic feelings with each other, in fact, you still haven't really. She's still holding the ring in front of you and not explaining any further details._

_"What does this mean?" You finally ask as you settle back down against the back of the sofa. Helena follows, leaning against you and resting her head on your right shoulder. She holds out your left hand and grazes your ring finger with her nail. She slowly slips the ring on your finger, resting your hand against your own thigh when she's done._

_"It means..." She pauses, a bit startled that you don't understand, but she doesn't skip a beat to become saucy in her retort. "Well, what do you think it signifies when your beloved bestows upon you such an item?"_

Your beloved._ She truly loves you. Head over heels loves you. She shows up at Christmas for you. You worry though. That she won't be able to stay. That she won't permanently be there. That she won't be there forever._

_This though. A ring. A small gold ring. This is a promise of the future and of things to come. This is her firmly planting roots in the 21st century and not planning on going anywhere again without you. She knows how much pain this separation has caused you and how your lives are intertwined. This is her asking permission to stay in your life: in each other's lives. Being a team that solves puzzles and saves the day. Every day. No more excuses._

_You pull her sideways onto your lap and hold her there, finally planting an extended kiss against her lips. She knows your answer. You don't need to make it complicated._

* * *

Two hours after you've landed, her tongue is licking away between your legs while one of your hands runs through her hair and other clings to your pillow. You have never known someone to revel in making love to you so often, to give so much of herself each time she touches you. She adores your taste, rakes fingers through your hair, licks every corner of your body, watches you squirm with delight at her touch: you love how she makes your body quiver.

A couple hours after waking the next morning, you're walking in the park along the waterfront, hand in hand, looking out at the ice on the lake and watching the ferries cross. It's cold, frosty and peaceful to be enjoying this with her. Yes, there is snow, ice and frigid temperatures in South Dakota, but it's not like this. This is a unique place, where you know no one and where you can be all "smoochy coupley" (as Pete likes to remind you, even though you two entirely are not like that) whenever and wherever you want. Even though you grew up in Colorado, you miss the water. You always got to see it in Washington as you were never far from the Potomac or a car ride to Ocean City or Virginia Beach. Helena misses the Thames, the Channel, the ocean. Rather than go somewhere warm, you opt to go somewhere as equally cold as home, but with a different and familiar flair.

You're both as uncomplicated and unassuming as it can get, traveling via SUV from one little state to another. It's somewhere neither of you has been before, it's just the two of you and it's absolutely perfect. No distractions, no worries, no pings/curiosities. The atmosphere reminds Helena a bit of her own time and you like sharing that with her. You drive up tall peaks, get out of the car and wander around while it's snowing. When it gets too cold, you turn on the heat and the radio before getting into the backseat of the car to keep warm, still watching snow fall as you snuggle. Together, you enjoy the mountains, the snow, the small towns, the historical buildings and the seafood. You're not a huge fan of oysters, but to her, it's a comfortable reminder of the past and she gobbles up a dozen of them in one sitting. You both equally excel at downing plates of fish and chips (yours without the malt vinegar) which also brings up memories of artifact recovery with Woolly and stopping for bite to eat before going back to Warehouse 12.

On your last day, you're in Boston, finishing up a patch of the Harborwalk by the station. You glance at her, sitting on the bench next to you, looking out at the Harbor. She's quiet. She's happy. You've enjoyed being on vacation together - your first vacation together - and being a regular couple. Tomorrow, you head back to the Warehouse, your lives and your routines.

It's cold out, especially by the breezy waterfront. You've both become addicted to the Dunkin' Donuts coffee served everywhere, always holding a large cup in your hands as you wander from place to place. Even Helena has taken to drinking coffee here, perhaps she'll even stop making fun of you for drinking so much throughout the day.

"Any idea where we are?" you ask, grabbing her hand to pull her up off the bench. You both know perfectly well _where _you are in the city, it's the significance of where you are that you're trying to get out of her. You've enjoyed showing each other quirky sites on your journey, like where the 1919 Molasses Flood occurred or where it supposedly rained frogs back in the 18th century.

"Not a clue." You turn her around and point to a plaque on the wall. She quickly reads it over and lets out a chuckle. "That was perfectly good tea." she remarks over her shoulder.

Back at the hotel, you pack up your bags for the morning flight so you don't have to rush when Helena asks you to come back to bed after a shower. That's what happened at the start of the trip and you don't need another repeat where you nearly miss you flight. You take extra care in neatly packing your marriage certificate into an envelope and placing it into your carry-on.


	3. And Echoed

Slender fingers incessantly twirl and twist your curls, refining a couple ringlets on the right side of your head. Sometimes, it's nearly impossible for her fingers to remain still. Her mind is always working, always thinking of the next sentence she will say, always conjuring new plans. Her fingers are always occupied.

Helena leans against a tree, patiently holding you in front of her as she plays with your hair. There is just enough sun outside that you can stay comfortably warm without having to scurry through your bag for that crimson sweater she likes. The sleeves of her shirt are rolled up, putting her skin in contact with yours around your neck. With arms draped around your shoulders, one hand lingers just above the top of your breasts and rake along the exposed skin from your v-neck shirt. The other is still engaged with your hair and will be unless you tell her to stop - which you certainly won't. It's a bit scandalous (perhaps in her mind) to be outside like this where anyone from the inn can meander over to where you're seated.

She softly hums along to whatever is playing in her brain, most likely some opera, but you're too busy relaxing in her arms to care what she is humming. The warmth of the sun and Helena's arms thoroughly put you to sleep nestled against her. This day off in the middle of the week is precisely what you both needed after a few days apart. Helena was abroad, you were in Detroit. Sitting under a tree, being close to one another is heavenly on a day like today.

Even with your eyes shut, you hear some footsteps along the grass in the distance. You don't even bother to open your eyes, Helena doesn't move her arms from you and simply keeps stroking the exposed skin on your chest. Being in her arms is so calming. The footsteps get closer and closer and despite your best efforts to not see who it is who is intruding, you peer open one eye to find Steve standing there. He's very quiet, not saying anything as he watches the two of you, smiling at your closeness. It's clear that he has something to say, but he's hesitant and you can see his mind thinking about his next move. He scrunches up his face and gestures back towards the house, silently telling you that whatever it is, it can wait and he won't intrude any further on your time cuddling beneath the tree. Once more, you shut your eye and enjoy the sensation of being held and relaxing outdoors.

By the time the late afternoon has strolled around, the sun is fading and it gets significantly cooler. You know it's colder when Helena rolls down the sleeves of her shirt and ever-so-slightly shivers against you. The sun is no longer directly in your path and you begin to get restless at the loss of warmth as well. It is certainly time for you both to head inside and get cleaned up.

You hold out your hand to help her up which she happily takes in her own. A quick tinge of gold catches your eye from your extended hand as you see your ring on your finger. How can you not smile at the sight of it? Still feeling chivalrous, you turn her around and wipe away the dirt and bark from her backside. Helena lets out the tiniest huff at the exaggerated attention you pay her, but deep down she loves it.

Helena sweetly clings to your hand as you walk back towards the house. The slightest breeze rushes by you, jostling your curls once more. To her, it's merely an invitation to brush them out of your face and it's a perfectly good excuse to touch your hair again. Always engaging those hands.

You head upstairs to your room to get cleaned up for dinner. Rather than dining with the rest of the family, you are going out to eat as there are still ample cuisines and cooking that Helena has yet to taste.

Your bedroom window is open. The curtains rustle in the breeze, letting in bits of sunlight and an occasional gust that catches you both off guard. The temperature is a perfect blend of warm and cool; warm enough to be undressed and lingering, yet comfortable enough to have a blanket or two thrown atop you. Very quietly, you both disrobe, removing shoes and tossing clothes into the nearby hamper or, in Helena's case, directly onto the floor. A silent tilt of your head says that is not a good move and she notices your movement, reaching to pick up her discarded shirt and throwing it into the basket. She walks over to you to place hands on your hips, which pause your motions, and opts to unbutton and zip open your jeans.

Despite her nimble fingers fiddling with buttons and zippers, you both collide as you try to assist her. A quick clearing of her throat has you moving your gaze downwards to her eyes, pausing the movement of your hands any further. You stop, trying to figure out where you should rest your hands, but she figures it might be best for you to have them completely out of her way and above your head. You oblige, no protesting on your part and smile at her while she continues to remove your remaining clothes.

Helena leads you against the bathroom door, pinning your arms above your head and pressing herself against you. Your lips are wet, your tongues meet, you love each other. The eyelets at the back of your bra are unfastened; she pulls down one arm, slides the strap completely off, places the arm back above your head and quickly does the same with the other one. Her mouth shifts lower to your breasts, eager to nibble and kiss the soft skin as there are other bits of clothing to take off while she's doing this. Jeans are completely unzipped and pushed down your legs.

Instinctively, your eyes are shut and you're smiling into every touch of her tongue and every trail of her fingers against your skin. No one could ever know your body like Helena. In the past four months of being together as a couple, you have actually surprised the both of you and most often taken the lead. She knows exactly where to caress, kiss, lick, tease. You happen to know the trick to making her silent and cooperative. Helena admires your balance of sweetness and aggressiveness, as you do hers.

You stand against the door, pressed into it more like, and heavily breathe. She sees you struggle as your chest slightly heaves, quickly glancing at what else on you needs to be removed. It's blatantly obvious that your black boyshorts are obstructing her objective, mindful of the way her fingers play with the waistband. Occasionally Helena's fingers make contact with your skin that inspire a shudder or gasp from your lips. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing Helena play her own game and come out winning. Rather than solely toy with the elastic at the waist, her hands wander down the front of your shorts to the band around each of your legs, far closer to her goal than your waist.

You gasp at fingers tugging at the bottom of your shorts, yet somehow always seem to brush ever so slightly against the spot you'd wish they'd be. She is merely trying to tease you, make you beg, make your head spin, make you wet. As always, she is successful with all of her movements. Helena does tease you, she does let a fingernail trail just a bit too long in one spot, she does illicit that moan from you that you tried so hard to keep in. Soon, her fingers are reaching beneath the hem and are slowly shimmying what remains on you down your leg. As she starts to lower your shorts, you realize her head lowers too, eagerly following their path down your thighs and then your calves. She spreads her fingers apart, covering as much of your skin as possible with her hands, caressing your thighs and darting slow kisses to various points from your waist downwards.

She is gentle, passionate and kind with your body. Loving every inch of you, places no one else has ever bothered to touch or to kiss. You know that she wants you to keep your arms raised above your head, but it's nearly impossible to resist combing your fingers through her dark tresses. Your arms lower and hands gravitate towards the mess of dark hair that occasionally tickles you. For a brief moment, you make eye contact. Her eyes silently tell you that your hands ought to be where she had initially placed them, but seeing as you both relish in modifying instruction, she is not bothered by the fact that your hands are in her hair and suddenly pushing (rather, gently suggesting) that her mouth be placed on your center.

Without hesitation, Helena immediately begins to move towards your throbbing need once she feels the pressure of your hands at her head. Her tongue twirls around your clit as she simultaneously sucks your lips, occasionally teasing them with her tongue as it flutters by. The sensation of her synchronously swallowing and lapping is a bit much after thirty seconds, forcing you to shift her head backwards a couple inches. She completely understands that the direct stimulation is too much, transferring her hands to the undersides of your thighs to pull you tightly to her as only her tongue circles and trails the left and right sides only of your clit. Repeated gestures of her hands raking over your skin relax you as she builds you up one more time.

You've never been one for having an orgasm standing against a wall, but this inspires you. If anyone can make your body harmoniously react, it's Helena. The repetitious efforts of her swirling tongue and hands that grip you to her make you wonder how long you will be able to last without your knees completely buckling. Her mouth licks and teases along with the rhythm of your body, building you up and up until you let out a moan that starts somewhere in the back of your throat and takes forever to get to your own lips.

She stands up, so you're nearly level with one another and smiles.

"Three years ago today." Helena says with a lick of her lips, an arch of an eyebrow and a shift of her gaze towards the ceiling.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my story. Will there be more? Maybe...


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